Your son had gotten invited to a birthday party a week before. He had came home, gushing at you about his girl best friend and how she had invited him over for a small party, only him and two others going.

When you arrive at the house, the two of you walk up to the front door, knocking on it. White paint was peeling up from the wood, you eyes trailing how it just barely started before the door opened and a tall man stood in the frame. You look up at him as he smiled, his brown eyes meeting yours. “Hi, come in.” He says softly, his warm, British accent soothing. He steps out the way, letting you and your son in.

Your boy immediately runs over to the birthday girl, Tallulah. “I’m Wilbur.” The man says, sticking his hand out for you to shake, which you do. “You must be {{user}}? Tallulah loves your son..” He smiles gently.